


No Cure for the Common Birthday

by ratherastory



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherastory/pseuds/ratherastory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's birthdays are cursed. Every time he tries to celebrate, something goes wrong. This time, Jensen decides to break his streak of bad luck, except that it's apparently really hard to break a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Cure for the Common Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PepperVL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperVL/gifts).



> Neurotic Author's Note #1: Written as a last-minute birthday present for [](http://peppervl.livejournal.com/profile)[**peppervl**](http://peppervl.livejournal.com/) , who likes schmoop and h/c and the boys taking care of each other. Hope you like it, babe!  
> Neurotic Author's Note #2: Unbeta'd, because I only wrote it last night. Whoops.  
> Neurotic Author's Note #3: Also, when it comes to RPF, I seem to be incapable of writing anything other than vaguely schmoopy gen h/c. Good thing that's what was called for this time. Maybe some other time I'll actually managed to victimise Jensen instead of Jared. ;)

"Come on, I don't believe you," Jensen says, not bothering to raise his head from where he's sprawled on the sofa in the living room. "You love birthdays. Hell, you baked a cake for mine and invited, like, a million people over and dragged me out for karaoke afterward. If I never have to listen to another off-key rendition of Shania Twain, it'll be too soon."

"It was awesome, and you know it," Jared rejoins from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the sofa, Harley sprawled halfway in his lap, trying to wield his Xbox controller around the overly large dog. Harley keeps trying to lick his face, which means that Jared has died at least four times in the last hour, not that he seems to mind. He just laughs and nudges the dog aside with his elbow and starts over. "I sing a great cover of 'That Don't Impress Me,' don't you try to deny it."

Jensen rolls his eyes and takes another swig of beer from his bottle. "Sure, whatever. That's not the point. The point is that you love birthdays, you think they're the awesomest thing since sliced bread, and you always –and I do mean always– go out of your way to make sure everyone else has a big party for theirs. So I am not buying your story of not wanting to do anything for your birthday. I call bullshit."

Jared pauses the game and twists around to look at him. "No, it's not like that. I mean, I love birthdays. You're right. Birthdays are great. It's just…" he hesitates, and just that makes Jensen sit up a little. Jared's cheeks heat up. "You're gonna laugh."

Jensen sighs. "I promise I won't laugh. Spill, already."

"Okay, but remember you promised," Jared huffs. "My birthdays are cursed."

He looks so very earnest when he says it that it takes all of Jensen's self-control not to burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, what?"

Jared huffs again. "I know it sounds stupid, but it's true." He looks down and fondles Harley's ears. "I have bad luck when it comes to my birthdays. Every time I try to plan something big or whatever, something happens to screw up my plans. When I was twelve my parents decided to take me and my friends to this really cool water park, and before I even got up to try the first water slide one of the rungs of the ladders gave way and I fell and broke my arm."

Jensen winces. "That sucks."

Jared shrugs. "Yeah, not the best time. I mean, the hospital was nice and all and I got a cool cast and all my friends signed it, but I'd have liked the water park better, you know. Then when I was sixteen we were going to have this big party, but my great-aunt passed the day before and we had to cancel and go out of state for her funeral. So I figured maybe I wasn't meant to have big parties, and so I held off for a few years, until I was twenty-one. That year I really wanted to do something cool, and my friends wanted to take me out and… honestly, I don't even remember what they were planning," he says, looking embarrassed. "It was pouring rain, and I was really psyched to get home so we could get started, so I was driving a little too fast, and I lost control and skidded into a ditch. I mean, I was fine," he adds hastily when Jensen jerks upright in alarm, "and I was really lucky I didn't hurt anyone else, but the car was on its side, and I was out there for hours sitting in the pouring rain waiting for a tow truck because I was too humiliated to call anyone to come drive me home. I missed the party and I got a cold on top of it."

Jensen whistles. "Wow, you really weren't kidding."

"So, yeah. I like birthdays, but I like to keep mine low-key, just to be on the safe side. Why do you think I make such a big deal out of other people's birthdays? I'm overcompensating," Jared grins, and Jensen finds himself grinning back, Jared's enthusiasm infectious, as usual.

Still, it's definitely unfair that Jared of all people should think that he's not allowed to have fun on his birthday for some reason. "Well, that sucks. I think we should break your streak, prove to you you're not cursed."

"Aw, Jensen, no. No, it'll just end up going wrong. But it's nice of you to offer."

"Jay, there isn't some sort of cosmic decree out that says you have to have shitty birthdays. It's just coincidence. You're going to be twenty-four, which only ever happens once, and that's worth celebrating."

Jared shakes his head. "I think it's a bad idea."

"How about you let me plan it for you? Like a surprise? That way it'll be all my kharma at work instead of yours. How's that?"

He gets a shrug and a head-tilt. "I guess. I mean, you don't have to, if you don't want to."

Jensen rolls his eyes, leans over a little awkwardly, and ruffles Jared's hair until it elicits the indignant yelp he was waiting for. "Relax, I got this. You go back to ODing on gummy worms and playing with your dogs. Just so long as you remember that we have filming to get through too, we'll be just fine."

"Asshole," Jared says amiably, raising his arm to elbow Jensen awkwardly in the thigh. "I am a consummate professional, I will have you know."

"Yeah? A professional what?" It's an old joke, and it gets him the laugh and the eyeroll he wanted.

Jared doesn't seem inclined to pursue the subject, and Jensen is content to let it drop for now. Filming is beginning to pick up again in earnest, but he still has a few weeks to plan things, and he is definitely going to put them to good use. By the time he falls into bed a few hours later, he's already got the seeds of a plan germinating in his mind.

It's a simple enough plan, and therefore it's not all that hard to implement. It involves a couple of phone calls to friends, whom he entrusts with the task of inviting all of their mutual friends who are still local along with those who aren't local but who might be able to make it up on short notice. Then it's down to Jensen to rent out the huge back room of one of their favourite bars, order the biggest chocolate cake he can find, and hire the services of a party decorating company to fill the room with balloons and streamers, because he figures it's the kind of thing Jared would love at his own party. He doesn't bother with a DJ, figuring he'll just bring all his mix CDs and play them in the background, but an open bar is a must –Jared won't know what hit him by the end of the night. It's weird, he finds himself thinking a few days before July 19th. None of this is anything he himself particularly enjoys –except maybe the booze– but it seems like a really good idea for Jay, like something Jensen won't even hate while it's happening, because he can't wait to see the look on Jared's face when he walks into that room.

Jensen gets a little caught up in his preparations. At least, that's what he figures happened, because he never notices when Jared goes quiet and withdrawn, and that's usually something he sees right off. They're good together, him and Jay, they always have each other's backs, can always tell when something's not right. So later he'll blame the fact that he maybe got a little too enthusiastic and preoccupied with making sure Jared would have a good time at the party to notice that he wasn't doing well.

The first real indication he gets is on set the day before the party. He's got it all set up for the day after shooting, so they don't have to worry about any of the filming running late. The filming itself is pretty gruelling, though. It's been raining steadily for a few days, and while the weather has improved, the air is still damp and they've all spent the week alternating between being drenched through with rain and drenched through with sweat, Jared especially, much to the despair of the girls in wardrobe and makeup. Jensen catches him smiling wanly as one of them tries a last-ditch attempt to fix his make-up before the next take. At least, Jensen thinks, flopping into the chair next to Jared's, they're almost done for the day.

"Sorry." Jared flashes Jensen the same smile, maybe a little brighter, raises his hand as though he's about to wipe at his forehead, then catches himself at the last second. "Shit."

"You okay?" Even under all the make-up, Jared still looks kind of pale, his expression pinched.

Jared shrugs, and it looks even more endearing than usual under all the Sam-clothes and makeup. He looks young like this, even younger than he is, and kind of sweet. It's mostly Sam, Jensen knows, the character bleeding through because Jared's been Sam all day long, and it has nothing to do with the real person under the character. Still, it's not the first time he's felt the weird impulse to just pull his co-star close and shelter him under his jacket. He figures that's probably character bleed too.

"'I'm fine. Headache, is all," Jared mumbles. "Been a long day."

Jensen claps him gently on the shoulder. "I hear you. We'll call it an early night, sleep in tomorrow, and you'll be good as new."

Jared nods a little absently, and they're off again to shoot his coverage while Jensen waits in the wings. His own coverage is done, but it's just easier to wait and drive home with Jared. Besides, he likes riding with him in the car, chatting and laughing about the day's antics and commiserating about some of the stuff that went abysmally wrong, too. Luckily those days are few and far-between, and it's at times like these that Jensen wonders if he'll ever be as fortunate as he is now.

Jared hauls himself into the back seat of the car beside him before Jensen can get too lost in his thoughts, and lets his head fall back against the seat. "Hey."

"You look done in."

He really does, too, now that most of his makeup is gone and he's no longer worrying about keeping his hair the way it's meant to be. He manages a pained grimace. "Yeah, I kind of feel like warmed-over crap. I am really, really looking forward to my bed. Right now, there is no place in the known universe I would rather be than there. Bed is the best place in the world." He grins, but it's half-hearted at best.

"I hear you," Jensen says fervently. "What say we cheat tonight and let the dogs out in the yard instead of walking them in the rain?"

"Cheating is good."

It's Jensen who ends up letting the dogs back inside nearly forty-five minutes after they've been let out. Jared's disappeared upstairs into his shower, and by the time Jensen lets the dogs in and goes upstairs with them to check on him he's already sprawled facedown on his bed, fast asleep. For a few moments Jensen just leans in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, listening to the quiet, even sound of his breathing. The dogs chuff quietly, then hop up onto the bed to take up their usual positions by Jared's legs. Jensen steals closer, just long enough to tug the covers up over Jared's shoulders. Not that he's tucking him in, or anything. No, Jared just looked kind of cold, is all.

But he's oddly reluctant to leave, and finds himself glancing back at the half-open door to Jared's room more than once before heading to his own bed.

In the morning, his misgivings are proven right. He's awoken by two very desperate dogs whining and pawing at him at way too early o'clock. He staggers out of bed, stumbles to the back door and lets them out into the yard again. He contemplates going right back to bed, but the moment's gone. He's up, he may as well stay up and make sure the day gets started on the last-minute details that always go into preparing a party –surprise or otherwise. It's only by the time he's on his second cup of coffee that his sleep-addled brain puts two and two together and he realizes that Jared not only hasn't gone out for his customary morning run with the dogs, but he hasn't gotten up at all.

"This isn't good," he tells Harley and Sadie, who are staring forlornly at their empty dishes. He scoops kibble into the bowls, gives them each a quick pat, and trots up the stairs to Jared's room. "Jay?" He knocks quietly on the door, pokes his head inside. "You awake?"

There's no answer, but he sees Jared stir a little on the bed and takes that as an invitation to go in and sit on the bed, right by Jared's hip. He places a hand on Jared's shoulder, gives him a gentle shake. "Jay, wake up. Don't want to sleep away your birthday, do you?"

Jared groans softly, but even if he hadn't, it's already more than obvious something's wrong. If nothing else, he's burning up under Jensen's palm. "G'way," he mumbles, trying unsuccessfully to burrow further into his pillow.

"You sick, Jay?" It's a stupid question, obviously Jared's sick, but the question is more how sick he is. "C'mon, talk to me. I promise I'll go away after."

That gets him another groan. "I think I have a fever. Feel shitty."

"How long've you been feeling bad?"

"Dunno," Jared rolls over and flops onto his back. "A couple of days, maybe? I'll just sleep it off. Be fine by Monday."

"You doofus, why didn't you say something sooner?" Jensen leans over and brushes the back of his fingers against Jared's cheek, feeling the scrape of the stubble that's just beginning to grow in. "Yeah, you're going to need a little artificial help with that, I think. You stay put, I'll go find you some Tylenol and some juice."

It doesn't take long to grab the Tylenol from the bathroom cabinet, and he takes the thermometer with him for good measure. He fills a glass with orange juice, then decides he may as well take the bottle and sets it all out on a small tray. By the time he gets back, Jared has curled up into a ball under his bedclothes, and it takes a ridiculous amount of coaxing to get him to even stick the thermometer under his tongue long enough to take his temperature.

"Yeah, you've definitely got a hell of a fever," Jensen scrunches his nose disapprovingly at the digital read-out. "What other symptoms you got? What are you feeling?"

"Jensen…" It comes out as a petulant whine, each vowel drawn out as long as humanly possible.

Jensen snorts. "I'm sorry, I don't speak whine. Use your words, Jay."

"Fuck you."

"I'm sorry, what was that again?" He rubs a hand on Jared's hip. "Come on, don't be a baby. I'm not torturing you, I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong so we can make you feel better, okay? Just tell me and then we'll get you all dosed up and you can go back to sleep. Scout's honour."

Jared heaves a put-upon sigh. "I'm too hot, I'm sore all over, and my throat hurts. Happy?"

"No, you moron, I'm not happy," Jensen brushes the bangs away from Jared's forehead. "I don't want you to be sick. Okay, sit up, take your pills and drink this whole glass of juice. Out of deference to your throat, I promise not to feed you dry toast."

That gets him a grimace. "Yeah, thanks." Jared wriggles awkwardly until he's mostly sitting up, takes the pills and the glass of orange juice and swallows them obediently. "Shit," he says suddenly, nearly choking on the juice. "Forgot the dogs…"

He's halfway out of the bed before Jensen can catch him by the shoulders. "Whoa, easy Tiger. It's okay, I let them out this morning, they're fine. Lie down, okay? You're in no condition to be getting up, let alone going out."

He manhandles him back down onto the mattress, wishing that Jay wasn't quite as big or maybe didn't work out quite as much, because having him resist his efforts is proving to be really difficult to contend with. Finally all the fight drains out of Jared in one fell swoop and he lets himself fall back onto his pillows, eyes closing. He's deathly pale, Jensen notes with disapproval, the only colour in his face the hectic flush of fever high on his cheeks, his face, neck and chest covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Jensen just shakes his head, tucks the bedclothes back snugly over him.

"Okay, you just yell if you need anything. Or send the dogs if your throat hurts. Or a text message," he grins, and is rewarded with Jared's middle finger, his hand poking out from under the covers just enough to make sure Jensen sees it.

He checks the clock on his way back into the kitchen, lets out a sigh when he sees that it's nearly eleven o'clock. It does give him enough time to call around and cancel the evening's plans. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Jared was onto something when he said his birthday was cursed. The few friends he asks to spread the word for him all send their sympathies, and they do sound genuinely sad that Jared's sick –the guy has a knack for looking like a kicked puppy when he's sick, and that apparently somehow extends over the phone. Jensen also takes Jared's phone off the hook, fields the few calls from his family to wish Jared a happy birthday, explaining the situation and promising Jared will call back when he's better.

Jared's mother clucks her tongue over the phone. "My poor Jay. Don't wake him," she adds when Jensen offers to make an exception for her. "I'll call back later. But I'm counting on you to make sure he's taken care of. You got that, Jensen?"

He grins. "I got it. You can count on me, no worries."

When he brings up a mug of instant chicken soup an hour or so later, Jared actually seems to have gotten worse, though Jensen hardly sees how it can be possible in such a short span of time. Jared doesn't resist or argue when Jensen prods him to sit up, just hunches over his soup and coughs miserably, the mug cradled in his hands, hair falling forward limply to obscure his face.

"You want me to take you to a clinic?" Jensen offers. "You sound terrible."

Jared shakes his head. "Just the flu. It sucks, but I'll be fine." He hasn't touched his soup, gingerly takes a sip when Jensen prompts him again. "Sorry, not really hungry." Jensen rescues the mug before Jared drops it, worries at his lower lip with his teeth when Jared just lies back down and curls up on himself, shivering. "You should go," he mumbles into his pillow. "I bet I'm contagious."

He rolls his eyes, sets the soup aside. "Yeah, sorry to burst your bubble there, Petrie-dish Boy, but we live and work together. If I'm going to catch this, the damage is already done. How you feeling now?"

"Cold."

"You want anything?"

Jared snorts. "A quick death?"

"Drama queen." Jensen pulls the covers back up over him. "I'll let your dogs cuddle you to sleep instead, how's that?"

Jared doesn't answer, eyes closed, his face pinched, and that's when Jensen notices the sunlight streaming in through the window and spilling over the bed. He pulls the curtains, is immediately rewarded when Jared relaxes with a quiet sigh, then steals quietly from the room. Better to just let him rest than to hover anxiously the way he really wants to. It's one of his mama's less useful traits that he inherited, he thinks ruefully, dropping onto the sofa in the living room and reaching for the remote. The dogs are long since gone, probably already cuddled up with their daddy, and the whole room feels empty and far too quiet without the sound of one or both dogs chewing on a toy, Jared listening to his music or playing with the Xbox or just lounging somewhere and talking about something inconsequential.

He flicks on the television, surfs through the channels until he lands on an old John Wayne movie, settles in to watch, but he can't keep his attention focused, not with Jared coughing upstairs. It's ridiculous, of course. It's just the flu, and Jared is fine. Well, as fine as anyone can be with the flu. He keeps an ear out, hears the toilet flushing a little later, figures that he doesn't at all need to go upstairs and hover obsessively, until he hears a loud thump followed by the sound of the dogs whining and milling about anxiously. Then he throws reason to the wind and takes the stairs two at a time.

"Jay?"

"'m fine," Jared's voice is strangled, coming from his bedroom. "Tripped, is all."

Jared's already trying to pick himself up off the floor, lists to one side and lands back on his ass just as Jensen gets to him, all tangled up in his own limbs. It's a little pathetic and more than a little funny, but Jensen takes pity on him and hauls him up by one arm and sits him back on the bed.

"Okay, there you go. You dizzy?"

Jared shakes his head, then nearly tilts over again. "Damn it."

Jensen laughs. "Yeah, take that as a yes, then. Here," he grabs the Tylenol, tilts two more capsules into Jared's palm and holds up the glass of orange juice for him to drink. "Come on, we have to get that fever down before you broil. You sure you don't want a doctor? Or a clinic?"

"Stop fussing," Jared complains. "You could put me out of my misery instead?" he adds hopefully, and Jensen rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, it's not that bad, you wuss. I'll bring you some TheraFlu, and you had better be grateful, because you're a terrible patient."

Jared flops back against his pillows. "Better'n you," he rejoins weakly. "You suck."

"I am a model patient," Jensen tells him sternly, even though they both know it's a lie. Jared is being an angel compared to the cranky, uncooperative mess that Jensen always becomes when he's sick.

Jared grins, even though his eyes are closed. "You puked all over me the last time. Repeatedly. That totally trumps this."

"Fair enough." Jensen smiles softly. He has unfond memories of that particular bout of stomach flu, when it felt like his whole body was trying to turn itself inside-out. The only consolation being Jared, who never went further than the next room, padding in and out quietly with a bucket, flat ginger ale and cold compresses. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Sit tight."

Jared's half-asleep by the time he gets back, complains half-heartedly about being forced to sit up and take the TheraFlu, until Jensen sits next to him on the bed and props him up. Jared lists against him, head coming to rest on his shoulder, and even through his t-shirt Jensen can feel the heat from his fever. He brings up a hand to wrap it over Jared's forehead, and feels oddly gratified when his friend leans into his touch.

"Pretty miserable, huh Jay?"

Jared nods. "Sorry. I know you had stuff planned today. You can still go, if you want. I'll be okay if you leave some stuff..."

"Are you kidding me? Why would I go? I'm beginning to think you were right about your birthday being cursed, though. Seriously, the timing on this is bizarre. Since when do you get the flu in summer?"

Jared shrugs, then huffs a small laugh. "You know, I forgot it was my birthday. Sucks."

"Your family called to say happy birthday. I told them you'd call back."

"They should be used to it by now."

"You think you can get some sleep now? Get past the worst of it, and tomorrow we'll set you up on the sofa with a pile of movies and more ginger ale than you know what to do with, take the whole day off."

"Yeah," Jared nods, but he doesn't make any effort to move. "Sounds good."

"You have to lie down to sleep."

Jared just curls closer into Jensen's arms, nestled against his chest. "You're comfy. And warm. 'm still cold."

"How can you be cold when your body temperature is over a hundred and three degrees?" Jensen teases him.

"Shut up," Jared moans. "You're makin' my head hurt more."

There's no easy way out of this. "Yeah, okay. So how about we both lie down and take a nap? That way you can still be warm, and also get some sleep? How's that?"

"You won't go?"

"No, I'll stay right here. See?" Jensen puts both feet up on the bed, glad he didn't bother to put on his shoes, then pulls the covers over both of them. "Now come on."

"'kay."

Jensen settles them both more comfortably against the pillows, basking in the warmth of the last rays of the afternoon sun just barely visible around the blinds that he closed earlier. The bed is already a little too hot and smells of Jared and a little bit of dog, but it's more than large enough to accommodate the two of them. He's already feeling drowsy, Jared nestling close to him, nose buried in his shirt, still breathing a little too hard because of the fever. He reaches across his chest and pets Jared's hair, figuring they'll make up for this shitty birthday next year.

As though reading his thoughts, Jared shifts a little in his arms and murmurs, "Y'know, as birthdays go, this one was pretty nice, after all."


End file.
